


Locked In

by kioku96



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: M/M, anise appears briefly, lots of thinking and not too much chatting lol, probably ooc? haha..., they are literally stuck in a closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26125102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kioku96/pseuds/kioku96
Summary: Sync, Six God General, was stuck in some stuffy, hot, cramped closet somewhere in the Daathic cathedral with the one and only Fon Master.
Relationships: Fon Master Ion & Sync the Tempest, Fon Master Ion/Sync the Tempest
Kudos: 3





	Locked In

How did it come to this?

Remnants of warmth lingered on his cheeks, reminding him of a sensation that felt so foreign, yet, why was there a sense of familiarity? What could one even call this weird reaction? In fact, he himself didn’t understand _why the hell he’s feeling like this._

The situation as a whole was throwing him for a loop, and to top things off, Sync felt that there was something distinctly wrong with himself. Particularly focusing on things that had nothing to do with _how_ to get out of _here_.

Should he be thanking the pseudo-god the Order had procured for this? Or should he just fault this to the incompetence of the Order itself?

Sync, Six God General, was stuck in some stuffy, hot, cramped closet somewhere in the Daathic cathedral with the one and only Fon Master.

One would think that this had to be the result of some accident of sorts. 

_If only._

Back against the wall, Sync’s gaze flickered to look at the culprit of his suffering, ‘innocently’ murmuring on what they could possibly do to get out of this closet that, for unknown reasons, had _locked them in_.

Sync was torn between throttling Ion right at this moment and pushing himself further against a wall that wouldn’t budge.

What was the purpose of this closet?

It was practically empty, _barely room for_ **_one_ **, and honestly? A complete waste of space. Absolutely useless! Who designed this? Sync was coming for them first, followed by whichever entity is out there (damn you Lorelei!) that is most likely laughing at him.

This stupid closet’s only redeeming feature was that it was dark (enough to hide Sync’s face).

Clearing his throat, Sync reached around for the door and rattled it a bit to no avail.

_Clack, clack, clack._

“I’m so sorry Sync. I really didn’t mean to drag you into this.” Ion began, breaking whatever this awkward silence was.

_Clack, clack, clack._

“The knights were chasing me and I needed somewhere to hide in for a bit. I knew they would ask you where I went if they saw you, so I just… kinda brought you in here with me.” He continued, not noticing the scowl that donned Sync’s face as he said this.

Yes, Sync picked up immediately that Ion felt that Sync would have ratted him out to the knights.

Damn right he would’ve!

 _Clack, clack, clack_.

Sync had better things to be doing. Ion had better things to be doing.

But here they are, squished together like sardines in a closet for the last half hour like idiots, neither really doing much to break out (but of course, Sync refused to pay for property damage).

“Sync?”

 _Clack, clack, clack_.

Sync chose not to respond, opting to half-heartedly twist the door knob that clacked softly, obviously signifying that yes, they were stuck, and no, they weren’t getting out yet.

He didn’t want to talk to Ion.

Ion.

His existence in itself was a living reminder of the difference between them. One who had a reason to live and one who had none at all. Being so close to someone who had every right he wished he had --- the life that he yearned for as well as the life that ignited the flames of hatred for the score --- made him seethe with a jealousy that slumbered within.

“...” 

It’s like everything came to a screeching halt.

 _“What are you doing?!”_ Sync hissed in a half strangled manner, mixed between being bewildered, horrified, and terrifyingly embarrassed.

He could feel Ion’s arms wrap around himself, hands holding onto Sync as if he would vanish into the darkness like a phantom. Ion rested his head on Sync’s shoulder.

Not going to answer?!

Sync rattled the door harder.

Someone, please let him out from here and his thoughts.

He could feel an odd tightness in his chest and a feeling of warmth welling inside, which he found he equally hated and _enjoyed_. The conflicting emotions swirling within made Sync hate himself even more than he already did.

But somehow…

As repulsed at this display of affection as he has felt, he could also feel an ache that he realized was akin to a yearning for this kind of affection --- one he didn’t know of that could even exist for someone like himself.

He wanted to push him away and make him disappear, but likewise, perhaps it was this damn closet, he wanted to reach out and hold on to whatever this is and not let go. What exactly was he feeling…?

Maybe the heat was getting to him.

Maybe this was all a fevered dream.

And just maybe… he should act upon an impulse.

Which he found himself doing, even before giving much thought to it and what it could possibly mean or what it could possibly lead to. He didn’t know what he was doing or why, but for some reason, it felt like it was the only thing he could do as a means to hold onto this moment.

“...!”

Sync, albeit slowly, returned this embrace, hands gripping onto Ion as if he was the only one left grounding Sync here, as proof he was alive. There was so much uncertainty in all of this, but what was real was the distinct pang and twisting sensation Sync felt within, far different from the physical pain wounds could ever deal.

It was as if he was wishing for something… but who was he to pretend as if he himself didn’t know? Fervently denying it all along the way.

At this moment, he could pinpoint what it was, so clear and defined yet so foreign, all other feelings regarding it be damned.

He wanted to be loved.

Even if it was for just a moment, he wanted to forget everything else and believe hope was real and that just maybe… the person in front of him could give him what no one in the world would even dream of doing.

So he held on and let himself show a sign of vulnerability he would otherwise guard to the grave. To take a risk --- gamble everything he had built himself upon --- and hope for a result that would be worth it.

To gain something a useless tool could never have and the thing that would draw him out the abyss that chained him to an existence he despised and suffered from.

Something that would make even him feel real and original.

“I... “ Sync began, not sure what he was going to say.

_Click!_

“...!”

“...!”

“Ion? There you are! I was-- huh?!”

“Wh-- Outta the way!” Sync’s face was hot. Whatever just happened _did not just happen_. He didn’t know what he was thinking but the look Anise was giving him made him scream inside.

Shoving Ion off of him and pushing himself out from the closet, Sync began walking away _very fast_ . He was NOT _running away_.

“SYNC?! WHAT THE HECK WERE YOU GUYS DOING IN THERE?!” Anise screamed after Sync, rushing over to help Ion off the ground.

“Haha… Hi Anise.”

“Are you okay Ion?” Anise asked, fretting while still managing to huff in the direction Sync had disappeared to. “I heard rattling from the closet earlier....”

“Oh I’m okay! But I don’t think Sync is. I think I’ll check up on him.” Ion laughed softly, opting to follow after Sync, eyes sparkling with fondness.

Perhaps this closet had its uses after all.


End file.
